Page 67 of Manhattan Heart

His head lowers and he looks like one of those MMA fighters ready to rip someone’s head off.

“Am I hurting you?”

“No, but..”

“You haven’t answered.”

“You are so fucking out of order using that against me.”

“I know. That’s still not an answer.”

“Of course I’m not fucking anyone else!”

Bottom line, he’s right. I suck at being a wife just as I did a girlfriend, but forgive me for being worried. I’ve never been through my husband needing his heart being fixed before, I’m literally relying on Google to tell me it’s okay that I make out with him, that it’s okay if he has steak occasionally or red wine. I’m such an expert on his kind of surgery and recovery statistics, that Web MD ought to be bank rolling me.

“I would never.” I say through my teeth and only then does Gray’s face soften and his hand rolls around my neck. He drops a kiss to my nose. “I know you wouldn’t, but that’s how ludicrous it is you asking me the same. We are more than just sex, India. If you don’t want it, that’s fine. I jerk off some of the tension so I can hold you and kiss you and not be a fucking animal by pestering you.”

“I’m just afraid of hurting you.”

Twin flames dance in his eyes and it reminds me of just how passionate of a man Gray is. About work. About his music. Most especially aboutme.

“For six weeks, my wife has treated me like I’m breakable glass and not the man who she turns to for everythingshe needs.” My breath gets caught in my throat and I’m so shocked by his…truth, that I don’t even blink.

“That’s not fair, you were recovering.”

“All recovered now, baby. No incision marks left on my chest. I had the all clear to exercise, to drive and get back to normal activities from the doctor. The best heart surgeon in New York, the same doctor you loved.”

All very good points, but it doesn’t stop me from freaking the hell out every time I feel his heart thud even a beat off the norm.

I can’t get past the idea of losing him.

He comes closer, pressing our bodies together, this time he moves both hands to cup either side of my neck. Using his thumbs he tips up my chin.

“You know what I miss? Feeling my wife’s legs tremble around me. Hearing her tiny gasps of pleasure building when I touch her just right. Feeling the place where her screams begin when I get in good and tight and then watching my come drip out of her when I know I brought it home for her.”

Sweet god, is the floor moving?

I feel dizzy.

Breathless.

“And I know one thing. My girl is just as hard up. We’ve never been this long without each other’s bodies. You want me. Youneedme, India. You need my cock and my mouth and my weight on top of you, holding you down, pounding it out of you, before I lick all your sore places. I know you better than anyone. So I understand, while you’re protective of hurting me, you’re aching for me too. It’ll be soon, baby-girl. Mark my words.”

I sway.

“Grayson.”

“Bottom line, baby-girl. I love you, sex or no sex.” He peppers three kisses gently to my lips then, and pulls back. Smirking. And adds when he returns to the coffee making. “But I’m gonna be beating off regularly to thoughts of all those things I’m missing. So if you don’t want to watch…then the bathroom is mine around the same time every day.”

He says it to taunt me. To tease me.

And then you know what the sexy monster does? He smiles and walks away, whistling for the pups and opens the long glass doors that leads outside, taking them for a walk.

Leaving me there, shaking in my booty shorts with my nipples hard as spikes.

I might have stayed there an inordinate of time because when my feet start to move around the kitchen, making breakfast, I know there’s only one thing to get over this hurdle.

And that is to fuck my husband like a slut on steroids.

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